


Accursed

by seeyouin-Asgard (Sentiment_for_Lost_Creatures)



Series: frjáls [3]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Bodily Fluids, Bottom Loki, Explicit Sexual Content, Intersex Loki, Loki Does What He Wants, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Prostate Massage, Rimming, Sexual Content, Size Kink, Svartálfaheimr | Svartalfheim, The Nine Realms, Throne Sex, Top Thor, Vaginal Sex, Watersports, Wetting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-25
Updated: 2015-10-25
Packaged: 2018-04-28 01:33:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5072827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sentiment_for_Lost_Creatures/pseuds/seeyouin-Asgard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>“And how do you know this criminal?" Sif questions, hardly surprised that he knows Malekith.</em>
</p><p>   <em>"Oh, we are acquainted," Loki remarks brazenly. </em></p><p>  <em>Thor tuts knowingly, but Sif continues, "How so?"</em></p><p>  <em>"As the Midgardians would say, in the biblical sense," he jeers and Sif recoils. She’s disgusted that anyone would stoop so low.</em></p><p>Thor has been tasked with bringing Malekith and his army to justice after an attack on Midgard. He storms <strong>Svartalfheim</strong> — furious and frustrated — this pettiness is the only reason he was called back from Alfheim, interrupting his time with a certain sorcerer.</p><p>If Loki hears about it and decides to pay his favourite God of Thunder a visit, then so be it. Thor really is sorry for skipping out on him.</p><p>Part 3 of 10.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Malekith

**Author's Note:**

> If you're thinking, there's a new story, she must have a university assignment due, then you would be correct...
> 
> It's a terrible habit I have, but hopefully you like the result.
> 
> This is far beyond anything I've written before. Read the tags please.
> 
>  
> 
> _A new realm, another meeting, more sex. Loki loves it._

### Svartalfheim

He is furious.

Brought back to Asgard for _this_? A dark elf finds himself with a few extra warriors and an ego to match and he thinks he has the right to attack Midgard, Thor thinks not.

What a joke.

Midgard is under Thor's protection, this _Malekith_ will pay for his insolence — and for cutting his time on Alfheim short.

 

With Lady Sif, the Warriors Three and a small battalion of Einherjar at his side, Thor is the first to land on Svartalfheim. The singed patterns left by the Bifrost sizzle into ash in the cold, harsh wind whipping through the air. It takes a moment for their eyes to accustom themselves to the stark contrast of light between the colourful brightness of the Bifrost and the dimness of the realm they now find themselves in.

Heimdall waits for all feet to touch the ground before closing the Bifrost and returning to his watch. His eyes look out across the dark realm to see what awaits his kinsmen. He snorts out an undignified chortle, thankful no one is about to hear. Watching for only a moment longer, he turns his gaze. Heimdall doesn’t need to be all-seeing to know the outcome of the Asgardians encounter.

Thor is in for one Hel of a surprise.

 

Highly strung and frustrated, Thor storms his way into what constitutes a fortress in this dark realm. It’s nothing like the grandness of Asgard or the elegance of Alfheim. _Pathetic_ , Thor seethes. Ignoring the advice of his comrades and disregarding the lack of enemy warriors on guard in the entryway, he keeps his head high and stride strong as he marches through the halls.

Blundering carelessly through the biggest and grandest set of doors he's found, Thor roars into what he assumes is the throne room.

"Malekith!"

 

The Asgardians stall, stopping completely when they note the dark elven army restrained, writhing haphazardly all around them in the dirt. Thor grits his teeth — someone has done his job for him — the thought of crushing something was the only thing keeping his fury at bay.

"What is the meaning of this?" He bellows to the figure stood at the foot of the dais. Thor can tell it's Malekith despite his back being to him. His armour differs, bigger and more impressive than the others to show his status, and his white, braided hair is unmistakable.

Infuriated by the lack of response, Thor continues further down the hall. But as he takes a step, the body collapses to its knees. The tendrils of laughter drift through the stilted air, light and carefree and _familiar_ as it piques Thor’s full attention, for nothing in the room matters now.

 

Fandral and Sif approach Thor’s flank, the low growl rumbling in his chest makes them hesitate. He’s been on edge since his return from Alfheim and they are none the wiser to what afflicts their Prince. Thor can see them from his periphery, he raises a hand to stop them and relay his orders, “Secure the prisoners and return them to my father, he can decide their fate.”

“And what of you, my Prince?” Sif asks.

“I have unfinished business to attend to.”

 

Thor stalks through the remainder of the room to the dais and has to blink twice to truly comprehend what he sees before him. Sat regally on the crudely formed throne of rock — legs thrown over the arm, head tilted back laughing — is Loki. His glittering eyes lock with Thor’s, shining with glee and mirth.

“Oh Thor, why so serious?” He teases, “Are you not pleased to see me?”

Batting his thick, black eyelashes at him, Thor bites back his retort, thinking of the best way to remove that damned smirk from Loki’s pretty lips. A muffled grunt captures Thor’s attention, his eyes flicking to the crumpled body of Malekith in the dust.

“Oh please, like this isn’t the first time I’ve had you at my feet,” Loki huffs, uninterested in the complaints that are silenced due to the magic restricting Malekith’s vocal chords.

Thor quirks an eyebrow in Loki’s direction, the question on the edge of his tongue is obvious and Loki knows it. He doesn’t respond, merely clicks his fingers to levitate Malekith from the floor to the air. “I have no need for you to waste my time again, Malekith. You Dark Elves are such dull creatures, half the strength and imagination that your light kin possess.”

“And how is our friend?” Thor interjects, “I assume that’s how you found out about this foray.”

Loki smirks, “Askr is most useful. He sends his regards.”

"Once you vanished like a petulant child,” he begins and Loki scoffs, both thinking back to their previous encounter, “he requested that I make you beg."

"And will you, _my Prince_?"

They stare with baited breath. A dare, a challenge. A fantastic opportunity to finish what was so rudely interrupted on Alfheim.

Loki drops one of his legs from the arm of the throne, his fingers tease along the stretched muscle of his parted thighs, inviting Thor in. The hairs on the back of his neck stand on end and the blonde swallows, his mouth dry in anticipation.

His voice is husky as he nods to Loki’s legs, "It will hardly be difficult. Look at you, sitting like a whore for me. You think I cannot see how your cock already aches, hmm?"

Thor restrains himself, wanting nothing more than to fall to his knees between Loki's to worship him wholly. To feel him, to taste him, to hear his cries of pleasure.

But he doesn't. He won't.

Not yet at least.

 

A stilted cough echoes from behind them. Thor turns and is confronted by the usually unflappable Lady Sif. Her brow is pinched, taken aback by the way her Prince talks to the dangerous stranger sprawled out on Malekith's throne. Because he is _dangerous_ , anyone in their right mind would think so, she doubts even Thor could have taken down the entire army of Dark Elves and then restrain their leader alone.

Thor’s gaze is unfamiliar, intense with a hunger she has never seen before. The pale being lounging on the throne is more suspect than she first imagined. She coughs again uncomfortably, "My Prince, the prisoners have been rounded up and are ready for transport."

"Good," Thor praises, then nods to Malekith's body still hanging in the air, “take this scum with you.”

“Come now, Thor," Loki charms as his stands sinuously, "he is harmless."

“He killed a dozen Midgardians and destroyed several buildings in an unprovoked attack," Sif bites.

“Oh Malekith," Loki admonishes, waving his hand so the elf drops to the floor once more, "how predictably stupid of you.”

“And how do you know this criminal?" Sif questions, hardly surprised that he knows Malekith, but hyperaware of the history Thor has with him. She has rarely seen him so taken by someone.

"Oh, we are acquainted," Loki remarks brazenly.

Thor tuts knowingly, but Sif continues, "How so?"

"As the Midgardians would say, in the biblical sense," he jeers and Sif recoils. Little is known about Malekith, but the rumours that have surfaced have portrayed Malekith as a vile, small minded bigot with the charm and intelligence of a bilgesnipe. She's disgusted that anyone would stoop so low.

"Behave," Thor warns with a quick smirk in Loki's direction, before focusing his attention on Sif. "Return them all to my Father, he will be most impressed by the speed and lack of spilt blood."

"And what do I tell him of your _friend's_ involvement?" Sif can feel the tension between them, friendship is the last thing on either of their minds.

"No more than he needs to know."

Sif wavers, "You would have me deceive the Allfather?"

Thor laughs and clasps her shoulder like the old friends they are, "Sif, this is no great conspiracy. Return and bask in the glory of a well completed mission."

She huffs and turns her focus to Malekith, grappling him into standing. With his arms pulled tightly behind his back she readies to lead him to the other prisoners. Looking to Thor once more, she asks the question she already knows the answer to, “You are not returning with us?”

“My business here has not yet been resolved.”

The answer is as expected and his word is final, Sif knows that. Grimacing in displeasure, because she also knows exactly what that business is, she tightens her hold on Malekith and leads him away.


	2. Svartalfheim

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now things get explicit... Enjoy!

“Thor! Please, I need— I beg—”

The blonde chortles, grinning wolfishly, “I promised I’d make you beg.”

“Plea—” Loki’s voice breaks off into a sob, his breath hitching deep in his chest. Weak and hypersensitive, he’s lost all sense of time. It could have been an hour or a day since Thor begun his arduous pursuit. His knees are sore — he should have magicked a softer surface to cover the rock floor in front of Malekith’s throne, but all he was expecting a quick and furious and glorious fuck — and he no longer has the strength to hold himself up. His arms give out, back arching into Thor’s touch. He whimpers pathetically.

 

Loki now realises he will beg... from time to time.

 

No one has been able to make Loki beg like this before, but Thor has been torturously punishing Loki's prostate for the best part of an hour. Massaging three of his thick fingers inside Loki's aching hole, he’d worked him through three orgasms already and he wasn’t letting up anytime soon. He wanted to push the limits, to see just how much he could make Loki beg. Maybe Loki does now regret his outburst in Alfheim, and for dousing Thor in ice cold water.

 

“Thor, I can’t, not again — oh Norns, more!”

His passage is raw, sensitive from Thor’s constant prodding, but his quim aches. Empty and clenching, unsatisfied because only his cock has found relief. He just wishes Thor would yield and give him his cock. He knows he's aroused enough, wet enough to take him _this instance_ , he can feel his slick flowing down his thighs.

"You will come from this or not at all, my pretty."

And Loki howls.

 

His balls tighten and his cock spurts more of his seed, more than Loki thought possible. With his free hand — the one that isn’t continuing the assault on Loki’s prostate — Thor catches his come on his fingers, making sure not to touch his cock. Leaning over his body, Thor works his fingers into Loki’s mouth, the trickster moaning around the digits, lapping up his own taste.

 

"Can you come again for me?" Thor asks and Loki shakes his head, his ‘no’ muffled by Thor’s fingers still in his mouth. “You can.”

Loki cries when Thor removes his fingers, not only from his mouth but also his throbbing hole. He sighs gratefully, finally Thor is going to give him what he wants, he’s been dreaming of his cock since the night Alfheim.

 

Thor watches Loki close his eyes, blissfully awaiting his cock. But where would the fun in that be. He dives forward, deciding to use his mouth instead of his fingers for the moment. Loki’s body jolts in surprise, keening when Thor's tongue works its way inside. Thor plunges his tongue in and out, his entrance is already slack, Loki’s cock already twitching back to arousal.

He feels, rather than sees, Loki’s shoulders shifting, his arms moving.

“I told you, Loki, you will come by my touch only.” He pulls back, Loki protesting when he’s left bereft of Thor's tongue, but that’s what he gets for trying to touch himself.

“Then touch me!” he pants, “Fuck—please!”

 

It’s tempting, but he knows Loki can come from just his fingers once more. He’s an insatiable creature that doesn’t know just how far his limits reach. Thor reaches for the oil Loki had thrown at him as soon as the throne room was clear of prisoners and Asgardians. Uncorking it, he drizzles it over Loki’s hole, the coolness against his scorching skin makes him tremble. He slides three fingers in easily, a fourth not soon after, flexing and probing, stimulating his prostate having mapped it within minutes of beginning their game.

He starts slow, painstakingly so, teasing until Loki vigorously pushes back onto his fingers. He picks up the speed, too fast for Loki to keep up, so he relaxes to let Thor take over completely. Steadying him with one hand on his lower back, Thor’s arm burns with the effort, each thrust bullying into the gland that makes his body shake. All is worthwhile when Loki’s body goes rigid, the muscles clenching around Thor's fingers, his breath stuttering till his lungs are empty. His eyes blow wide and gaze vacant as his cock pulses a weak, jagged stream of now clear fluid.

 

Loki exhales, heaving in enough air when Thor removes his fingers carefully and rolls him onto his back. His arms flop to circle his head and his hair fans out like a dark halo. His body is wrecked and limp, happily accepting of Thor's kisses over his heated skin. _Finally_ he touches him. Thor crawls up his body, Loki spreading his legs to give him the room, he clasps their hands together above Loki’s head, kissing him languidly.

His stomach knots as he lays bare with Thor crowding over him still adorned in his thick leathers. He scratches down Thor's back, frustrated by the barrier of his wardrobe, tugging until Thor relents and pulls his leather vest and tunic over his head. Rising to his knees, Thor towers over Loki, his chest still just as broad and intimidating without the structure of his clothes bulking out his size.

Loki’s breath catches when Thor inches down to unlace his breeches. One hand works them down to his knees, and the other reaches forward to rub with Loki’s clit with his thumb.

“Tho-or,” he whines, his abdominal muscles clenching as a wave of new pleasure shoots through him.

His eyes bulge when he finally gets to see Thor's cock, red and angry and leaking thick beads of pre-come. Pulling Loki to him, he takes his cock in hand, caressing Loki’s quim, the bundle of nerves, his lips, coating himself in his slickness.

“Is this what you want? Your body won’t be sated until my cock has ruined you too?”

He nods then shakes his head to answer each question in turn, voice absent and lost amongst his heavy breathing and soft cries. Losing himself to nirvana, his eyes flutter shut as the head breaches his supple opening. He begins at an unhurried pace, ensuring Loki feels every inch of him stretching him to the brink. Thor bottoms out, pulling Loki into his lap to slip in the final inch.

“There you go, my greedy boy. So perfect, so spent, yet still yearning for more.”

 

Pulling him by the arms and into his chest, Thor manhandles Loki to straddle his thighs. He cries out when Thor's cock slides impossibly deeper, never once slipping free. Loki wraps his arms around Thor’s shoulders, his fingers gripping at the ends of his sweat-drenched tresses. With his hands on his hips, Thor uses all his strength to lift Loki up and down, picking up a gruelling speed.

All he can do is hold on tight. He buries his face in the crook of Thor's neck, teeth biting at tight skin as his body is conquered. The sensations radiating from his quim shoot through his body, electricity running through his veins, fireworks ignite behind closed eyelids. The pleasure builds and builds, so quickly on the verge of his last orgasm, for he would die from anymore.

 

It feels different, his cock is still limp but he is _so close_. On the precipice of the abyss, of pure ecstasy, until he’s falling, tumbling over the edge into darkness. For a second Thor thinks he loses consciousness. Frozen in time. In a brief second, Loki is scrabbling at his shoulders, nails wounding, trying desperately to push himself up and away, to free his ravaged cunt of its cruel yet generous master. He weeps, still pushing as Thor refuses to let up.

 

It’s too much.

He has nothing left to give.

 

He lets out a strangled cry, shocked by his body’s sudden betrayal and the utter lack of control. With his twitching balls pillaged of all his seed, he involuntarily wets himself.

_And he can’t stop._

Pissing himself with Thor still burying himself inside time and again, his quim quivers and clenches and the orgasm surges through him. Tears flood from his eyes as all the sensations twist into one great eruption.

 

Thor finally notices, much to Loki’s mortification, the difference in the viscous slick of his quim and the hot liquid now gushing over his stomach and pooling between their bodies. He stares down, eyes wild, almost feral as Loki’s leaking cock jumps to the rhythm of his thrusts. He raptly watches the torrent of piss stutter to an end, slowing their movements to a halt. Loki’s face is burning red, embarrassed beyond belief.

He was having such a good time too.

 

Neither of them move. Dazed. Motionless. Only Loki’s body vibrates unwillingly, still racked with the aftermath of his orgasm, ripples of painful pleasure tremble through his muscles. Thor is still stiff inside him, not flagging despite being covered in urine. His breath is hard, his chest heaving in the air he needs, the scent of Loki saturating them. He growls, rumbling deep from within his chest.

“Thor—”

He’s interrupted by a bruising kiss. Teeth clash, nails scratch. Thor is fierce with desire. The primal, carnal need to fuck is devastating.

Dipping into the cooling pool, they both watch as Thor rubs his hands over their groins and stomachs. Loki’s restlessness feels wonderful around his cock still deep inside him, stretching him wide now his walls have fluttered to a still. But Thor sees the grimace on his face as he shifts in his lap; six orgasms is enough to force from him today.

Cradling him in his arms, Thor gently lays Loki flat again. Making sure he's comfortable, the liquid gushes around them as Thor pulls free. Still unbearably hard, yet to find his release, he fists his cock roughly, tugging himself at a brutal pace.

He watches through half lidded eyes, Loki's skin glistens, and his face is as lax and fucked out as his body. _He did that to him_. The tear stains on his milky skin, his soft panting, the deep rose blushing his chest. He's never been witness to anything so beautiful.

 

Seeing Thor still so aroused, despite what he’d done, douses his body in relief. The gratitude has him rushing up, forcing Thor from the cushioned blanket of seidr covering the dais and onto the throne like the King he will one day be. Dropping to his knees, he swiftly takes Thor into his mouth to begin his worship of the God of Thunder.

At first he bobs his head experimentally, accustoming himself to the considerable girth. Unable to take it all, he fists the base as he suckles the head, savouring the pre-come beading on his tongue. Bolder, he slips further down until he’s pushing at the limits of his gag-reflex — his body wants to stop, needs air for his lungs, but he can’t. He doesn’t stop until he hears booming roar of pleasure.

 

Thor grips the arms of the throne, the crude rock cutting into his calloused hands, head thrown back, eyes struggling to keep watch as the lightning sparks through him. Caterwauling, he curses his cock nudging the back of Loki’s throat. Deep gusts of air weave through his dark blonde curls Loki sinks his nose into. The fluttering of Loki swallowing, his mouth too full and overflowing with saliva and his pre-spend, has him almost doubled over, his hands tangling into his raven curls to keep him in place.

He wishes to join Valhalla for surely this is a hero’s death.

 

Relaxing the best he can, Loki allows Thor the control of his mouth. The hold of his hair pushes him down and he angles his hips upwards. He takes all that he has to give. And then he gives more. Reaching between their bodies and Thor's parted thighs, one hand fondles his heavy sack. The forefinger of his other dips further underneath, petting his twitching hole, his thumb rubbing harshly into his perineum.

 

Thor falters, his body quaking as his orgasm takes hold, washing over him with relief and fulfilment. Loki’s magical hands quickly pull away to gain purchase on Thor’s thighs as his mouth is flooded with seed, copious amounts from him being on edge since he saw Loki sprawled in the throne with Malekith at his feet. Loki stutters and gags, swallowing what he can and the rest overflowing past his lips, mixing with the fresh tears on his cheeks.

Feeling the hold on his hair release, Loki pulls away, wheezing and breathless and used. Mouth parted, sucking in vital oxygen, irresistible to Thor who leans down to kiss him. He licks at his lips, tasting himself, flicking his tongue inside to massage Loki’s. Slow and sensual, his hands cup Loki’s cheeks, the longer, more slender fingers clasp his wrists.

Lips still locked, Thor helps Loki climb onto the throne and into his lap again. Loki chokes a sob into Thor’s mouth when his cock settles against his quim, and he pulls Thor closer, lips frantic. Hands amble over the jut of his hip bones, the curves of his waist. His skin pimples, hairs standing on end, shivering due to the now cool liquid on his skin. Thor notices, but isn’t similarly afflicted because he’s a furnace of warmth and sunshine. Their lips smack as Thor pulls away, and gazes upon him with awe in his eyes. Loki shivers again, but it has nothing to do with the temperature.

“You pissed yourself...” Thor utters in wonder.

Loki blinks, both staring, “Quiet.”

“…Because I fucked you so hard.” Thor declares, a hint of pride in his voice.

Eyes scrunching, his teeth gritting, “Shut up.”

Thor is silent for a beat, a smirk edging at the corners of his lips, “I also vowed to make you beg.”

Loki groans, dropping his head to hide his face in the crook of Thor's neck. He feels the rumble of Thor's laughter rumble through both their chests.

“I hate you,” he mumbles into Thor's shoulder, refusing to look up and observe the smugness he can feel radiating from him.

“I have no clue as to why you feel self-conscious, Loki. That was magnificent.”

 _You are magnificent_ is hot on his tongue, but he swallows it back, falling into a reflective silence.

 

“I have need to visit Midgard, to examine the damage Malekith has inflicted upon them.” He pauses, Loki uncharacteristically unresponsive, irritated because how can Thor think of anything apart from the satisfying ache in his bones. “Would you care to accompany me?”

He fights, but can’t stop the smile forming on his lips. He knows Thor feels it because he starts petting his hair prettily. He’s been desperate to reach Midgard, but it has been under the protection of Asgard for centuries. It had never been his plan get an invitation from its Prince, but it is a pleasant surprise.

“Only if you find us a bath. I doubt even my seidr is powerful enough to rid us of the smell.”

 

Thor pulls Loki’s hair away to reveal his shoulder, dipping to run his tongue over the skin, nipping at his earlobe. “What if I want to smell like you?”

“Thor,” Loki pushes him away, “You filthy beast.”

“I wish I could scent you too,” he bites at Loki’s lips and pulls back with him chasing after the kiss, “I know there are Midgardians that will catch your eye.”

“I doubt their meagre stamina is able to match yours,” he pauses, teasing mischief in his eyes, “But you’ll just have to prove yourself worthy, Mighty Thor.”


End file.
